“Major D’Orville,” announced the polite footman, with the utmost stateliness; and our handsome hussar made his appearance, and paid his respects to Miss Kettering in his usual self-possessed and dignified manner, contrasting favourably with poor Frank’s obvious embarrassment and annoyance, now heightened by the intrusion of so unwelcome a visitor at such an unlucky moment. A few seconds more might have produced an explanation, a reconciliation--possibly a scene--but that cursed door-knocker could not be still, even for so short a space; and Mr. Hardingstone was once more at a dead-lock. And now began another game at cross purposes, which, though not uncommon amongst ladies and gentlemen who are of opinion that “two form pleasanter company than three,” is, nevertheless, a dull and dreary recreation when persisted in for any length of time. It is termed “sitting each other out,” and was now performed by Frank Hardingstone and the Major in its highest perfection. But here again the man of war had an advantage over the civilian. Besides the occupation afforded him by his moustaches, of which ornaments even D’Orville acknowledged the value in a case like the present, he was thoroughly at his ease, and consequently good-humoured, lively, and agreeable; whereas Frank was restless, preoccupied, almost morose. He had never before appeared to such disadvantage in Blanche’s eyes. But if he hoped to obtain her ear by dint of patient assiduity, and an obvious intention to remain where he was till dinner-time, he must have been grievously disappointed, for again a thundering knock shook the house to its foundations, and “Lord Mount Helicon” was announced by the polite footman, with an extra flourish on account of the title. His lordship greeted Blanche with the greatest _empressement_, nodded to the gentlemen with the most hearty cordiality, as though rivalry was a word unknown in his vocabulary, and settled himself in an arm-chair by the lady’s side with a good-natured assurance peculiarly his own. “Do you ride to-day, Miss Kettering?” said he, with the most matter-of-course air. “I promised the General to show him my famous pony, so I have ordered ‘Trictrac’ (that’s his name) to be here at five--perhaps you’ll allow me to accompany you.”